laying with her head in my lap,
brush my fingers through their hair.
laugh and smile with them,
and see the sun hit their face perfectly.
sit with them,
nothing, anything, and everything.
i wrote this for someone but we dont talk anymore LOL
smart, popular boys in third grade,
with their stupid khakis
and dumb sweatshirts.
i didnt want their popularity,
i wanted to be a boy.
a smart boy with stupid khakis
and a dumb sweatshirt
the kind, pretty girls in fourth grade
their pretty hair
and painted nails
i didnt want to be a pretty girl like them
i admired them
but i was too young,
and it was too wrong
it was wrong to want to be a boy,
to want to love a girl,
want to be a smart boy
with pretty hair
and painted nails
i should've been the perfect daughter,
but im a smart boy
with pretty hair
and painted nails.
havent posted in ages but i wrote this a couple months ago <3
thank you for helping me stay alive;
for showing me the good in life when
all i could see was the bad;
for taking those dangerous thoughts
out of my head.
even if it was just for a moment.
thank you for showing me that im not as terrible as i think i am.
thank you for making me laugh when i thought i couldn't.
thank you for comforting me in the middle of the night
when i break down.
thank you for talking me out of suicide;
for showing me i matter.
you were there for me when i thought i had no one.
and im sorry for not realizing you were there sooner.
i love you.
you mean so much to me.
this is an old thing i did a while back, still applies.
remember when you were seven?
you were at the store with your mom or your dad.
you saw the gumball machine and youd beg your mom for a quarter,
when she'd give it to you,
you'd bolt to the machine and insert the quarter as fast as possible.
you'd be disappointed when you get an orange gumball
instead of a pink or blue one,
but you'd still pop it in your mouth and chew.
it's different now.
it hasn't been a very long time
but it's definently different.
there's less going to the store with your parents
because you dont want to miss your favourite show
or because you want to play a video game.
there's more yelling because you refuse to clean your room,
or you dont want to get out of bed.
think about that again.
spend some time with them,
go out for ice cream,
go for a bike ride,
have a conversation with them.
acknowledge everything they do for you.
acknowledge that they're trying their hardest to give you a good life,
a good future.
tell them you love them.
this was a short story i wrote in the seventh grade, i put it in poem form and i rewrote the ending. this is more of a letter to myself, idk
they didnt want me there,
they said i was loved,
they don't care about me.
it was fake,
im a burden to them,
nothing but a burden.
they never wanted to be my friend
or is it just in my head?
my head is
i cant make sense of this.
im trying my hardest to be logical,
i'm trying my hardest
to not let my emotions take over,
but it's not working.
i shouldnt be
but i am.
this cant be right?
they love me, don't they?
they wouldnt lie to me like that.
but i cant be sure of it.
i hate how much doubt i have all the time,,
you were the one he'd always leave me for,
you knew how i felt about him,
i loved you
i trusted you
i think about you when i pass the subway next to the domino's.
i thought about you yesterday
i thought about you today
and i'll think about you everyday
did you think about me on my birthday?
do you think about me at all?
it's hard to think we were so close once.
we havent spoken in a year,
and i dont want to speak to you.
we loved eachother.
and you lied.
you were kind,
that's who i fell in love with.
it was your birthday,
was it a good one?
i hope youre okay,
i hope youre better.
he broke me more times than i can count,
more times than i'd like to say,
but i still blame myself
i thought it was all my fault,
that i was a bad boyfriend,
that i was the reason everything went wrong.
i was wrong
i think about him a lot.
i think about the scars he's left,
the few good memories there were of us,
that i loved him unconditionally,
his hugs, his touch, his lips, his hair
and the worst part is,
i miss it.